


Found and Lost

by havenotlove



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havenotlove/pseuds/havenotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days after Laven Surana's Harrowing, and Jowan still won't give up asking him about it.</p><p>A glimpse of what could have been, torn away too quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found and Lost

"So, what was it like? Your Harrowing?”

"Harrowing."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Thanks."

"Come on, Laven, I'm being serious. You haven't told me anything about it yet. Can't you just give me a hint?"

Laven sighed and laid his book aside, rolling over to face the man standing over him. He didn't want to talk about this right now. His Harrowing was the last thing he wanted to think about  _right now_. Yet here Jowan was, seating himself on the side of his bed and looking so resolved to finally hear an answer that Laven doubted he would give the matter up.

"Why do you want to know so badly?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Because!" Jowan paused and cast a glance around the room. The only other apprentices there were on the far side of the quarters; one was sleeping, and the other seemed to be on her way out. He lowered his voice before continuing, "You know I've been here longer than you have. I should have been called for my Harrowing already!"

The distraught apprentice waited, apparently expecting a response, but Laven only looked back at him, fiddling absently with the hem of his sleeve. Jowan sighed.

"I just want to know what they're keeping me from. What they think I can't do."

"Look," Laven said slowly, propping himself up on his elbows. "I know you're just worried about your future with Lily—"

"Wha—How do you know about Lily?" Jowan asked, his brow furrowed in earnest confusion. "I haven't told you about her yet."

"Jowan, you cried her name out the last time I gave you hea—"

Two hands clasped firmly over Laven's mouth before he could finish. "I told you, that never happened!" Jowan protested, distressed by the amused look in his friend's eyes.

Laven laughed lightly as he peeled the fingers away from his mouth. He threw Jowan a playful smirk but said nothing more on the subject.

Jowan sighed, vexed by his friend's avoidance of the question, and for a moment Laven thought he was finally going to let it drop. Grateful, he laid his head back on the pillows and took up his book again, flipping through the pages to try to find where he had left off. He felt Jowan watching him as he skimmed, but he tried to ignore it.

"So now you're just going to move up to the mages' quarters and leave me here all alone."

Laven buried his face in his book and groaned in frustration. "Jowaaan," he grumbled impatiently, his voice muffled by the book's pages. "We're not even supposed to be talking about this!"

"That's never stopped you before!" Jowan whined, fully justified at least in that. "I thought we were friends, Laven."

"We are." Laven tossed the book roughly aside in misplaced irritation.

"Then I can't see why you won't at least tell me—"

"Andraste's ass, Jowan!" Laven sat up with an exasperated sigh and rubbed both hands over his face, taking a moment to calm down. "Fine. You want to know what the Harrowing is? It's a way for them to remove a threat, to silence an inconvenience. They rip mages from their beds in the middle of the night, lure demons to them with the promise of an easy target, then threaten to cut them down if they make a single misstep."

Jowan stared, surprised at the sudden surrender. "So they... send you into the Fade?" he asked blankly. "Make you pass a test?"

It wasn't that simple, and Laven wasn't sure how to make him understand that.

"It's a test," he explained, trying not to recall too vividly the details of that night, "but they don't want you to pass. The odds are intentionally set against you."

"What are you saying? Of course they want you to pass. The First Enchanter—"

"There's no warning when they come, Jowan. The Templars take you when you're at your most vulnerable, disoriented from being shaken awake. They treat you with suspicion before you've even said or done anything and answer your questions with an order for silence. Tired and confused, you're given an ultimatum: you either pass the demon's test, submit to Tranquility, or die an abomination with a Templar's sword in your back."

Jowan fell silent. He stared at Laven for a moment and then looked slowly down at his hands. Laven wondered if he was considering his own capabilities, his own chance of success.

"So that's why some of the apprentices never come back?"

"I imagine most make it out of sheer desperation, but it's not something you should be excited to go through."

"But," Jowan lifted his eyes to meet Laven's, intending to look steady and resolved, but his voice shook with obvious worry. "I don't have any other choice. If I'm not called for my Harrowing, then I'll be made Tranquil, and that would mean losing everything that I am. My thoughts, my feelings, my dreams—all gone. I wouldn't care about you or Lily. I wouldn't even be me anymore."

Laven's heart lurched. Of course this was what it had been about.

He had watched Jowan over the last several months, had noticed the subtle changes. As each week had slipped by, as each apprentice left before them, Jowan had gradually become more nervous and needy. He had sought Laven out again and again, sought his reassurances and his presence and his comfort—and now Laven was leaving before him.

It wasn't failing his Harrowing that Jowan feared; it was never being given a chance.

"That won't happen," Laven said, knowing that the words sounded empty. "You won't be made Tranquil."

"How could you possibly know that?" Jowan asked dismally, his shoulders drooping in defeat. "I'm not the mage you are. I've been here so much longer than you have, and now the only reason you're still here is because they haven't yet cleared a space for you in the mages' quarters."

Laven scooted over to the opposite side of the bed and seated himself beside Jowan, placing a hand in his. "I'm not going anywhere, Jowan. I'll stay with you."

Jowan looked down at their hands, now linked together, and then up at Laven. His brow knitted together in a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Laven slowly, "that I'm going to stay with you. After we destroy your phylactery. I'll escape with you." 

"You're... going to run away with me? With us? You'd really do that?" He clearly hadn't thought about the details yet, but there was hope, excitement in Jowan's voice. 

Laven smiled. He rested his hand lightly on the other man's cheek, his fingertips gently caressing the stubbly skin there.

"...Laven?"

Lithe fingers glided slowly down and tucked beneath Jowan's chin, pulling him lower and closer.

"Jowan?" Laven whispered back, more a plea than an answer, and he pressed his mouth to Jowan's, kissing him softly.

He felt Jowan's body tense in surprise, and for a moment Laven wondered if he would be pushed away. But instead Jowan breathed a soft sigh against his lips and relaxed slowly into his touch, slipping his hands down to rest on Laven's waist. Where Laven's movements soon became needy and raw, punctuated with light nips of teeth, Jowan's response was warm, gentle even. He reciprocated the kiss with a slow, steady rhythm that made Laven feel safe and secure. For the moment he found his thoughts and worries displaced, overwhelmed as he gave in fully to the sensations thrilling through him: Jowan's tongue against his lips, Jowan's hand pressed to his waist, Jowan's breath against his neck. This felt good. This felt _right_. 

With a quiet murmur of pleasure, Laven inched himself closer, threading his fingers slowly through Jowan's hair. He thought of how often he had wanted to reach out and run his hands through it—wanted to see it splayed out on the sheets beneath them. He shuddered with anticipation and tugged Jowan closer, inviting him to explore his body further.

Laven stopped.

Jowan had suddenly frozen beneath his touch.

Wondering if he had pushed it too far, if suddenly Jowan had realized he didn't want this, Laven released his partner and pulled back to look at him.

"Jowan? What's wrong?"

When he met Jowan's gaze, it was cloudy and unfocused, like he was looking right through him. Laven frowned and was about to question Jowan's poorly-timed detachment when he noticed: emblazoned on his friend's forehead was a bright, bursting sun. The mark of the Chantry. The brand of Tranquility.

Laven choked back a cry. 

"No. No, no, no no no. That isn't possible." His hands went frantically from Jowan's neck to his chest to his arms, searching vainly for a wound to heal. Finding nothing, Laven gripped the man's shoulders and shook him once, twice.

"Jowan!" he snapped, his horror manifesting as anger. "Jowan, what happened? For fuck's sake, Jowan, answer me! Jowan!"

But even as Laven cried out, the man in front of him began to slip quite literally through his fingers. His face suddenly caved in, and his skin began cascading away. He was dissolving right in front of Laven, being blown away like so much dust in the air.

Laven woke with a jolt. His heart was thundering inside his chest and his breath was coming fast, but the world around him was quiet. The fire crackled cozily outside his tent, and further away, Leliana's and Alistair's low voices could be heard in conversation.

He felt a strong, steady hand on his arm and looked to his side. Zevran was watching him intently, concern written in his every feature.

"A nightmare? The archdemon?"

Laven didn't answer. He only rolled closer to his bedmate, pressed himself against his chest, and nestled his head into the crook beneath his chin. Zevran wrapped both arms around the quivering Warden, holding him perhaps more tightly than he meant to.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first fanfiction I've ever written. Feedback is very appreciated. <3


End file.
